


Blame It On The Alcohol

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Sassy, So much drunkeness, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a lapse of judgement, Clara has confided to the Doctor that she gets rather drunk every time that she goes out with friends. He makes her promise to let him know when she's planning to lose her head, and says he won't interfere on one condition: that she doesn't snog strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On The Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> This is mildly inspired by Jenna's entrance as Lydia Wickham in Death Comes to Pemberley; that girl can down her wine.
> 
> Huge thanks to Liz (UniverseOnHerShoulders) for helping with my shoddy spelling, and the idea for the title

**Friday night. 7pm.**

It had been a long day. Double year eleven, frantic homework marking, the horrible year eights, lunch duty and then two hours of trying to get year ten to appreciate Macbeth. Two hours later and even she hated the damn Scottish play. 

It was a glass of wine whilst getting ready kind of day. Well, a glass and a half. She was going out, for the first time in what felt like forever. She was excited to see the old uni lot again, but couldn't help staring at her bed, the Doctor’s sweatshirt and her Sex and the City box set wistfully. 

Ah, the Doctor. She'd sent him away for a few days, she needed a bit of time to recuperate and be Earth bound. Even though she’d needed more time on the TARDIS after Danny died, she was beginning to realise that she couldn’t totally run away from her life on Earth. Plus explaining why her hair had suddenly grown overnight to a class of over-eager year sevens was starting to get more and more difficult.

She hadn’t told him she was going out. Having said that, she knew how much he worried when she was around alcohol. At the time, it seemed funny to tell him about the time she’d broken her ankle in her second year by falling over her own foot when completely inebriated, and about how she could pretty much guarantee being bought at least one drink by a hapless suitor on every night out. He, however, didn’t find it as amusing as she did, grumbling something about her safety and stupid recklessness. 

After that, he’d made her promise to let him know if she was planning on losing her head at any point, just so it didn’t clash with him saving a planet or anything…

Tapping her freshly painted nails against the screen of her phone, she toyed with the idea of just not calling him, of having a stupid, human, reckless night and spending tomorrow bundled in blankets nursing a particularly terrible hangover without him moaning in her ear.

Rolling her eyes, she tapped on his number, spritzing on her favourite perfume whilst waiting for him to answer. 

_“Clara, why do I have to, I don’t want an answerphone…”_

Ah, his voicemail message. It had taken her a good three hours of pestering him to change it. She was fed up of calling the TARDIS and hearing Bow-Tie’s voice.

_“Fine. I’m not answering because I’m probably busy doing very important things. If you’re Clara, leave a message. If you’re not Clara, I can’t help you.”_

She shook her head and waited for the beep.

“Hey Doctor, it's Clara. Now before you get all worried, I’m fine. This is just me checking in and telling you that yes, I, Clara Oswald, am going out tonight. Me and the girls from uni are going for drinks and I intend to get reasonably smashed. I mean, not so smashed that I break things or you know get off with random men. I obviously will maintain my dignity. Probably. Anyway mister. This means tomorrow is off limits. If you try to contact me at all tomorrow I will shout at you, and we both know what happened last time I did that. And, I will be perfectly fine tonight. So no spying! If I really need you I’ll call you. Stop worrying, you daft old man.”

She chuckled to herself and hung up, imagining his disgruntled face as he listened to her message. She knew he’d be worried, but he always worried about her. He was always going on about his duty of care which she did secretly quite enjoy. 

Checking the time, she slid one more bobby pin into her hair, downed the rest of her wine, and made her way to the front door, grabbing necessary cards, keys, ID and shoes that she would need during the night. As she gave herself one last glance in the hallway mirror, she checked her phone once again. Still nothing.

He was probably in the library, too oblivious to answer the phone, she decided, as she strode out of her flat towards the cab full of women who were waiting for her. 

**Drinks: 2.**

**Friday night 10pm**

They seemed to be at the restaurant for forever, or at least the length of time it took to buy and consume two cocktails and a huge meal. She was beginning to feel tipsy, and tipsy was good. She did enjoy meeting up with the girls from uni but their lives just seemed so mundane. Relationships, work, reminiscing about the good old university days which seemed like a lifetime ago to her. 

She found it difficult to be with her old friends now. She felt oddly disconnected from them. Having a secret alternate life in outer space, plus a 2000-year-old best friend and a boyfriend who was killed by another alien and turned into a cyberman meant that many aspects of her life were now off limits to the girls she spent every day for three years with. 

She stared at her phone in her lap. Still no messages. She decided to call him, he hadn’t explicitly said that he expected her to check in, but she figured the more she did, the less likely he was to randomly turn up and start sonicing her friends to check they weren’t aliens.

"Clara, you okay?" Louise had leant over, noticing Clara seemed a little distant from the group.

"Yeah I’m good, just missed a call" she said, feeling a little wobbly as she stood up, slightly regretting her choice of shoes.

Ducking through the arms of a slightly rowdy bunch of lads, she made her way outside, only feeling the full effects of the alcohol she had drunk now she was stood up.

Scowling at her phone, she tapped his number. Voicemail. Again.

"Hey you. It’s me again. Clara me, not Me me, that would be weird. ANYWAY, stop wittering Clara. Hey. I’m bored. Humans are boring. People who aren’t you are boring."

She paused.

"I’m being good you know. You’d be proud of me. I have had five drinks and I've not snogged anyone. Or slapped anyone. Or broken anything. I know. Im such a grown up" 

“Clara, round three!” she turned around to see Louise shouting at her from the door. She was being summoned.

"Right you, I'm going back for more drink. I like drink. Also, still not in need of rescuing, so if you're planning on making a surprise visit, don’t. Right, see you later"

**Drinks: 5.**

**Friday night. 11.30pm**

They made their way slowly to the next bar. It had to be slow, heels and alcohol do not make the best combination, especially when accompanied by a group of over-excited girls who haven’t seen each other for a few months.

Clara lagged a little behind the group, staring at her phone screen as though it had insulted her. She sighed and pressed call. How did he manage to make her feel this guilty without even speaking him? Dammit Doctor.

The call went straight to voicemail again. 

“Me again. Are you ever going to pick up? I’m drunk Doctor. I’m so very very drunk. Being drunk is great. But I'm bored Doctor. I'm bored of being sensible and I'm bored of human lives. Plus all I have interesting to tell them is how 9A5 have finally grasped the need for punctuation. And even I don't find that interesting. Am I boring?” she paused.

Has anyone ever told you how scary your eyebrows are? Why are they so scary? Are you overcompensating for last time? Because that’s okay. Have I ever told you how great you are? No, don't let me tell you that, you and your damn ego. Anyway. I'm going to go and do more being boring. I wish I was allowed to snog people."

**Drinks: 7**

**Saturday morning. 1.30am.**

“So Miss Oswald, are you going to tell us about the mystery boyfriend you’ve spent the night pining after?” Abi was surveying her with a wicked smile on her face. 

Clara froze. Shit, fuck, bollocks. They’d noticed. 

“Or girlfriend, remember second year?” Ellen chirped in, collapsing in fits of giggles. 

“You leave Nina out of this” Clara rolled her eyes, surprised it had taken them this long to bring her ex-girlfriend up. 

“Oooooh Clara’s got a boyfriend!” Jessica, her least favourite member of the group had piped up. 

But I haven’t got a boyfriend and I certainly haven’t been pining”. She puffed up her chest, feeling a little insulted.

“Please. You’ve snuck off twice to make secret phonecalls, you’ve been checking your phone every minute, and the Clara Oswald I know and love would have made out with at least four different men by now…” Abi smirked at Clara, knowing that she had hit a nerve. 

“He’s just a friend. I thought it was more but it’s definitely not. He’s taken care of me after, you know… stuff. And he just wanted to check I was safe- I seem to have got myself a reputation.” She tried to sound as convincing as possible, and as the girls dissolved in fits of giggles, she downed the rest of her drink. 

**Drinks: 11**

**Saturday morning. 3am.**

Nothing good happens after 2am. Ever. She remembered hearing that somewhere before and wracked her brains trying to work out where. She figured it couldn’t have been the Doctor; as a time traveller everything good happened after 2am.

She wasn't quite sure how much she’d drunk. She remembered the first ten drinks, but after that it was just a blur. They’d danced, her knees were killing and her head was spinning- the tell tale sign of a bad combination of shots and the Spice Girls. 

She groaned. She was sat on the kerb with Louise, who despite the copious amount of alcohol consumed was annoyingly still as sensible as ever.

"Clara, can I call someone? You're not spending the night alone and I'm not even close enough to sober to deal with you. I'll just call the last number yeah?"

Realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. 

"No don't...shit" she mumbled.

"Clara!" Oh now he could answer the phone. Typical Doctor. 

"Hi, sorry, this is Clara's friend. You must be her boyfriend?" Louise said, suppressing a giggle. 

"Fuck off Lou" Clara moaned. 

"I'm not her boyfriend, and what's wrong, where's my Clara, has she been hurt?" 

"Oh no, she's here, it's just that she's completely pissed out of her skull and I don't want her to be alone tonight. Is there a chance you could come and pick her up?"

Clara grabbed the phone 

"Park round the corner, we're on West Street, and it's 3.15am on the..... Shit....12th February 2016. And for the love of fuck do not bring the guitar."

She hung up before he could speak, knowing there'd be an argument. There was a small voice in the back of her mind reminding her that she'd have to deal with him whilst hungover. She pushed that aside.

She sat up, catching a glimpse of him as he stalked towards them, his eyebrows set in the attack position.

She went to stand up to greet him, but her head span, not allowing her to raise herself more than a few inches unsupported. That was okay. Sitting down was good. She buried her head in her knees as the Time Lord came to a halt in front of them.

"Lou this is..."

"John Smith, doctor, Glasgow uni, don't like to mention it" he shook Louise's hand, much to her bewilderment.

He crouched down next to Clara and lifted her head with his hands, his fingers close to her temples.

"Don't zap me. I don't want to sleep." Clara mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him.

"How much has she had?" He asked, turning to Louise, trying to stay calm and pretend she hadn't mentioned zapping. He was fighting the urge to scoop her up and run with her back to the TARDIS but knew that Clara had a facade to maintain.

"I don't know. A lot. I've known her to drink more, but not by much."

"But I was sensible though. I didn't even kiss anyone." Clara grinned.

Even the Doctor couldn't suppress a smirk then. Oh Clara, his silly Clara.

“Doctor, will you take me home? I just want to go to bed. And oh, there’s wine at home and…”

She’d tried to stand up, but had done so far too quickly, her head spinning as she began to fall. Time Lord reflexes prevented her from hitting the floor; he’d managed to wedge his arms under hers, contorting his body to support her weight. She’d ended up with her face smushed onto his chest. She staying in that position, looking up at him with her big eyes.

“Hey you” she smiled, ignoring the giggle that came from Louise.

He shook his head at her, still looking concerned, assessing her.

"Lou, tell the girls I love them all, well, apart from Jess." She frowned, slightly perturbed that her dislike for Jess had escaped from her lips.

Louise laughed "sleep well Clara, I'll call you tomorrow", and she strode back towards the bar to rejoin the others, leaving the Doctor and Clara alone.  
He stared at her, trying to work out their plan of action.

"Clara..." he began.

"I like Lou. She's such a good egg."

"Clara..."He said with slightly more urgency

"I wish I was as nice as Lou. Why cant I be as nice as her Doctor?" She looked up at him, making her eyes as wide as possible.

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Clara, shush."

She pouted, as he reshuffled her position, so she had her arm around his shoulders as though he were a walking stick. They practically crawled their way back to the TARDIS, as she could barely place on foot in front of the other. Clara inanely chattered the entire way back, Doctor attempting to decipher words about pet hamsters and “spicy girls”. He made a mental note to look these up whilst she was sleeping.

When they got to the TARDIS doors, he paused, realising they were going to have a problem. He couldn’t open the doors without her falling to the floor, and didn’t want to drag her over the threshold, even the pudding brains might be suspicious of that.

“Doctor, you could carry me!” she almost shouted, her eyes lighting up.

He sighed.

“Clara, I…”

She pouted at him, as he rolled his eyes then clicked his fingers, the TARDIS doors swinging open.

“Fine, but don’t expect this to happen again” he moaned as he swung her up into his arms with surprising ease.

He carried her past the control panel, and up to her leather reading chair, depositing her down with rather less grace than she would have normally liked. The TARDIS had left a glass of water there, and he knelt before her and guided it to her lips, making sure she drank at least some of it.

They stayed there in silence for a while, apart from the odd giggle escaping from her lips.

"Do you hate me?" she said, out of the blue, studying his eyes.

"Clara, why would I hate you?" He was full of panic then, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

She took a minute to process this sentence, nibbling her lip as she was deep in thought.

"Because you wouldn't let me kiss anyone. But kissing is fun and I like kissing. Why do you hate fun Doctor? Why do you hate me?"

"Why did we send alcohol to your planet? Why?” he almost shouted, turning to look at the control panel as though the TARDIS would have the answer.

“Doctor.”

Clara was looking at him, her eyes like saucers and she was chewing on her lower lip, the way she always did when she was thinking. He walked over to her, wondering if he should just ‘zap’ her to sleep.

Suddenly, she’d grabbed his lapels, and had pulled him down, smashing her lips into his, lacing her fingers through his hair as he flailed, not wanting to push her away but also feeling very awkward about the position he was in. He didn’t want to kiss her, but he couldn’t deny it felt nice.

She pulled away from him, frowning.

“Can I have some more wine? I’ve got a bottle in the fridge and…”

He cut her off.

“No, no more wine”

Her bottom lip trembled.

“Doctor why won’t you let me have wine? I like wine?”

He edged towards her as she pouted, realising he only really had one option. He knelt in front of her and cupped her face in his hands.

“Clara, Clara, Clara. I will get you some more wine in just one second…” he began, twisting his hands round to meet her temples, sending her into a deep sleep in an instant.

“Sorry” he whispered, feeling a little guilty as she flopped over onto him.

She would sleep for around 8 hours now, giving her enough time to sober up. He contemplated taking her back to the flat but decided against it, realising she would be far safer if she stayed in the TARDIS with him, so he could keep an eye on her.

He scooped her up again, cradling her as though she was a child, silently thanking the TARDIS for moving her bedroom closer to the control room. He sat her on the bed, removing her shoes and dress and replacing it with the old t-shirt of his she liked to wear to be whilst she was on board.

Tucking her in, he cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb and gave a small smile.

“Oh Clara, my silly Clara”

He pulled over the chair in the corner of the room, for once feeling grateful that Clara insisted on keeping a huge stack of books from the library in there.

Selecting the top one, he settled down, making sure he kept one eye on her for the whole night.

**Saturday morning. 11.30am.**

She could hear a guitar playing softly, and was confused as to when she had put music on the night before.

"No." she groaned, her voice croaky, and her head swimming,

The guitar continued to play.

“Nope” she moaned again, repeating the word over and over until the guitar stopped.

She rolled onto her side, feeling a little sick, desperately hoping she could go back to sleep and lessen the duration of this hangover. She didn't quite feel up to getting up to make a cup of tea and some toast, so sleep would have to cure her.

“Hey.” The Doctor was stood at the door, watching her, his guitar slung over his back.

That explained the music.

“Nope. Not today.” She moaned, burying her head under the TARDIS blue sheets.

Hang on, this wasn’t her bed. Her bed was pastels and hundreds of cushions, nothing like the fluffy TARDIS blue duvet she was currently lying under.

“Doctor, where am I?” she said, not moving from her cocoon.

“You’re on the TARDIS of course Clara, where else would you be?”

“Umm, my flat?” she asked, poking her head up to look at him.

“Don’t you remember? I brought you back here after you became far too intoxicated last night.” He was frowning at her now.

“Well that was your fault!” She was scowling now, as she began to sift through her memories to work out what exactly had happened.

"How is it my fault?" He scowled at her.

"You and your stupid Time Lords with your alcohol!”

“You chose to drink that much!”

“That’s because you wouldn’t let me kiss anyone!” she paused, as though the cogs in her head were turning, piecing together memories from the night before.

“Oh my God, we kissed!” she groaned, her head sinking into her hands.

“No, you kissed me” he protested, feeling a little offended that she could have accused him of such a thing.

She gawped at him, then a horrible realisation dawned upon her.

“Doctor, I need to ask. Did we…umm…well…oh don’t make me say it” she said, peering through the gaps in her fingers.

“Say what?”

She groaned.

“Did we…umm…sleep together” she mumbled.

“Yeah, we did!” he looked rather pleased with himself.

“WHAT?” she shouted, ignoring the throbbing in her head.

“Yeah, I brought you back here, and you did human things and some sleeping.” he said, feeling slightly confused as to why she was so angry with him.

“Oh my God. What if I’m pregnant? It’ll be half alien. What do I do? Does it have to go to a special hospital?” she was shaking her head, panicking.

He grabbed her hands.

“Clara, why are you chattering on about a baby? Why would you be pregnant? Did you have intercourse with an alien last night?”

“Yes, you!” she exclaimed, feeling a blush creep cross her cheeks.

He jumped up. “What? When? Me?”

She frowned. “Doctor, when I say did we sleep together, I mean did we sleep together?”

He took a moment to process the information, at first looking confused, then his eyes widening as though a lightbulb had turned on.

“We didn’t…River would kill us…no not us…how could you say…my hearts…” he garbled out, to which Clara couldn’t help but laugh.

What did you mean when you said we’d slept together Doctor?” she smirked, enjoying watching him flap.

He looked embarrassed now.

“Doctor, what’s wrong, tell me” she frowned, even in her horrifically hungover state trying to offer him comfort.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe to I stayed here whilst you slept. And I had a cat-nap. But mainly the making sure you were safe bit”. He bowed his head, looking at her through his eyebrows like a small child.

She felt a warm glow spreading through her chest (and briefly hoped it wasn’t vomit), and her face broke out into a huge smile.

“Oh Doctor, you didn't have to” she grinned at him as he raised his head and looked at her.

"Clara, I have a duty of care." He was serious now, and frowning slightly.

"I know."

They stayed in silence for a while, he was at the door, almost guarding her, and she sat frowning, trying to tie memories of the night before together through the fog of her hangover.

“Hang on” she shouted “you zapped me. Dammit Doctor, I have one rule!”

He darted out of the door and yelled behind him

“I’LL MAKE YOU SOME TEA!”


End file.
